


Not Like a Harlequin Romance

by mandykaysfic



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 11:17:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandykaysfic/pseuds/mandykaysfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elizabeth wants confirmation she's still attractive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Like a Harlequin Romance

Elizabeth let the paperback fall from her fingers. It was supposed to be a guilty pleasure; a spare hour and a sexy romance. 

_Brianna turned her face, automatically bending so her hair covered the left side of her face. Logan touched her chin, forcing her to look at him. He pushed her hair aside and stared into her eyes, watching the bright blue darken with every inch he moved toward her. He felt her tremble and pride surged through him when she didn't pull away. Gently, he touched his lips to the angry red scar that marred her cheek and temple._

Lucky Brianna. Fortunate Rosalind, whose fiance Derek had not been turned off by her scarred breast. Savannah with her missing fingers and Fraser, who showed her that amputees were capable of pleasuring their partners. And for good measure, there was Keely, who proved the ugly, puckered skin of Donovan's manhood was no deterrent to her love.

She stared at the pile of books on her bedside table and in a fit of temper, swept them to the floor. What was with the publishing company? 

After nine weeks the longish scar that curved around below the ribs on her left side had begun to fade. The smaller ones still looked purple, but Dr Lam had assured her they too would lighten with time. She closed her eyes and fingered the raised skin. Even in the last week it had flattened and smoothed out. The vitamin-enriched oil she massaged in on a daily basis was doing its job. 

She massaged it in - would it have killed Simon to help her? Simon needed to take a leaf out of Elizabeth's romances. She wanted him to touch her scar. It was like that part of her no longer existed. His eyes seemed to slide over it when she'd tried stretching out naked on the bed, wantonly displaying herself in a magazine pose. He'd gone straight for her breasts, she recalled, and later rolled her over and kissed the nape of her neck over and over again, right on the spot that caused her to dissolve into mindless puddle of goo. Even asking for his help with the massaging had failed. He'd simply tipped some oil in his hands and worked her shoulders instead.

Elizabeth rolled off the bed and dragged herself into the bathroom. She stared at her reflection in the mirror as she slowly pulled the camisole up and over her head. 

Dispassionately, she surveyed herself from the top. The highlights in her hair disguised the few grays that had appeared. Even if they hadn't, she still would have colored her hair. She liked the way the richer brown flattered her skin tone. The crow's feet at her eyes and faint lines at her mouth had been there when she'd first dated Simon. He'd never indicated they'd turned him off, or that he'd rather a younger looking model. Anyway, he had wrinkles of his own. 

Her breasts were fine, thank you. The faint silvery lines, remnants of her early teens when her body had, as they used to say, blossomed into womanhood practically overnight, were barely noticeable. She ignored the scar and concentrated her belly. It took more work these days to keep in shape. She exercised regularly before the incident; she wasn't quite back up to her usual regime, but she was getting there. 

She pushed her sweats down, and after a moment, her panties. Her pubic hair was neatly trimmed. For a moment, Elizabeth considered getting a Brazilian, but she dismissed the idea as easily as she dismissed not shaving at all. Simon didn't hesitate to touch her pussy. Fingers, mouth, his toes had all gone there without any evidence of distaste on his part. She gave her legs only a cursory glance. Smooth, lightly tanned and, she thought, nicely shaped. All in all, she was an attractive, sexy woman. And now she had a scar.

She turned slightly so the scar was clearly visible along its whole length. With her right hand, she held her left breast up, pulling the skin below taut. Slowly, delicately, she traced it from one end to the other with the tip of her index finger. 

She wondered if it would make any difference if he knew exactly what had happened. The official story was she'd been involved in a helicopter accident on Antarctica and lost her spleen. The truth of the matter was it happened on another planet when she'd been struck by a projectile from an alien weapon. 

The leader of the mission to Atlantis can't possibly step through the Stargate for the first time when they leave, she'd argued. She needed some experience with Gate travel. The powers that be had all come round to her way of thinking eventually. They'd selected a nice, safe planet, not knowing a civil war had broken out in the three months since their last contact. She'd been the only casualty. 

But she knew she really didn't want him to know. It shouldn't matter. 

Simon had hoisted her legs onto his shoulders last night. He didn't say anything, but he did pause long enough for her to change position if she was uncomfortable. She hadn't protested, just reached around and squeezed his backside. He'd flung his head back and pounded into her as deeply as he'd ever done before the incident. It had been good. Almost silent as usual, as they directed one another with hands rather than words. She'd felt it at the surgical site, but it hadn't been the sort of pain that indicated a problem. Rather it was an ache that she'd absently rubbed at after they were done. Sometimes, when he noticed her rubbing at it through her clothes, he'd ask if she were okay. This time he said nothing, just passed her a tissue, then cleaned himself up and settled with his back to her. He'd reached back and patted her hip when she snuggled up against him. 

Elizabeth sighed. As she pulled her clothes back on, she wondered how two people, so facile in their jobs, failed so utterly at communicating on a personal level to each other.

END


End file.
